


Black, White and Red

by amarix



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Child Abuse, Humanstuck, M/M, Not Sadstuck, Rated mature for future smut, There will be smut later on I promise, a bit of angst?, but still a bit angsty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-20
Updated: 2012-10-20
Packaged: 2017-11-16 15:54:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/541221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amarix/pseuds/amarix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Karkat Vantas and you feel like you've lead the most miserable life in existence.<br/>Just when you think it's getting better, you meet the most annoying douchebag who you might be harboring feelings for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black, White and Red

You met him the summer you were 6 years old.

 

He was a full head shorter than you were but he used that to his advantage, screaming at anyone who dared to insult him.

 

Other than that, he seemed to be quite quiet, sitting alone on the swing. Perhaps you should have gone and talked to him but you were 4 then. You completely ignored him and continued insulting Eridan and playing around with Feferi. Why should you talk to him anyways? It’s not like it was your responsibility to.

His mess of black hair nearly covered his eyes and every time you looked up, you caught him glancing at the 3 of you before pretending to take interest in the leaves by his feet. You sort of felt bad for him seeing how lonely he was. But you didn’t bother taking action. He could deal by himself and he probably had friends waiting for him somewhere else. You turned back to the sandbox and continued making figure eights in the sand occasionally stopping to hiss at Eridan for messing your patterns up. Oh yeah, you should probably also mention that he was 2 years younger than you. At the age of 6, you did not want to be caught socializing with anyone two years younger than you.

You regretted that decision.

 

The next time you saw him was when you were finally going into middle school. Grade 7 was such a big deal back then. You felt like you had the most power over all the children on the playground.

Once again, his messy black hair caught your attention and you called out rudely to him. You aren’t sure why you’re being rude but it seemed the most appropriate. Showing off to your friends mattered more than the feelings of others then.  
He looked up at your insults and you got a good look at his face. Bruises decorated his cheeks and band-aids littered his forehead. In addition, dark circles beneath his eyes stood out against his pale white skin. You immediately felt bad about what you called him and opened your mouth to apologize. A sudden clap on your back shocked you into momentary silence and a loud “show him who’s boss Sol” echoed across the playground. You swallowed thickly and turned around. “Come on guys, let’s go back in” you mumbled as you started across the field. You felt terrible and the image of his face haunted your dreams for a few months.

 

Nearing the middle of Grade 7, you heard from your friends that some kid from Grade 5 had transferred schools. It wasn’t unusual for someone to transfer in the middle of the year but what made him stand out was the story that came with it. Apparently, according to your friends, the kid was being abused back at home and it got so bad that one day, when he showed up to school with a cut spanning from above his left eyebrow to the left corner of his mouth, the teachers immediately contacted his family and after a long discussion, he was sent to an orphanage. You had a pretty good idea of who they were talking about and pretended on the outside that it was all just lies. They were making stuff up; that would never happen in a million years. But you couldn’t help but wonder if it was true. Questions swarmed your mind that night and you stared at the ceiling decorated with bee stickers. You should have taken them off when you entered Grade 5 considering how lame they were but you kept them anyways.

 

Your dreams that night weren’t calming at all. They weren’t even dreams. Nightmares is more like it. His bruised face from when you saw him on the playground floated around your thoughts and began morphing. His eyes were gouged out and his mouth open in a grotesque grin showing sharp teeth. A sinister laugh echoed around your ears and you woke up screaming with the laugh still ringing in your ears.

 

You had never had nightmares this powerful. They were always just you getting pushed down by bees and finding your arms stuck on the ground from honey. After that, it’d always turn into a good dream with the bees softly humming by your ears. Never had you experienced this.

It was frightening and you clutched your stuffed bee closer to your shivering body. A quick glance at your alarm clock told you that it was time to get ready for school. You crawled reluctantly out of bed and collapsed on the floor, still shaking from the haunting dream.

 

**== > Be the other kid**

 

Your whole life is a train wreck. An abused mess of confusion.

 

Every corner of your house wasn’t safe anymore. Your room included. Every thought spoken out loud was a slap to the face. Every action, a bead of blood.

  
Your name is Karkat Vantas and you have never wanted to die so much until now.

 

Your father was an abusive drunk, still mourning about his wife having left him. You can see why she left and you hate her for it. You hate her for not taking you. You hate her for leaving you with this bastard. You hate her for not letting you have a normal childhood like all the other kids in the park.

 

You were 4 when you first met him. You were sitting on the swing, he was sitting in the sandbox. You’d sneak glances at him every so often, wanting to be beside him and laughing along with him. His life seemed so easy, carefree. He had no clue what you were going through and you wish you could switch positions with him. You were starting to hate his smile. How obnoxious it was. He had no idea what you were going through. He couldn’t possibly. His life was probably just a breeze. You were jealous. Jealous that he could have that carefree life. Why couldn’t you have it? Is it that hard to grant your wish? You guess it is.

 

The second time you meet him, it was when you were in Grade 5. It was getting worse at home. You were scared of every shifting shadow now. Not just at home anymore. Every shadow that flickered when you were walking to school. Every leaf crunching under your foot. You were frightened by the whole world. Nothing in your life could help to make it feel any less worse. Your father had stepped up his abuse. When you were younger, you could get away with the injuries and laugh it off saying you tripped and fell over your own shoelaces. You could go to sleep every night and the injuries would be gone. But now, the wounds left scars. Who knew glass could puncture skin so easily?

You’d smile to yourself every day in the mirror and tell yourself everything will be okay. With that fake smile you’d walk to school and act like nothing happened at all and the wounds never existed.

 

When he called out to you during lunch, you were ecstatic. Finally, he was talking to you! Your heart dropped when you processed what he said. The comment stung and lodged itself deep into your mind. You looked up slowly and met his bi-colored eyes. You still find them fascinating but that thought was not your priority. Hurt, you tried to muster up a glare to hide it and you think you may have succeeded. His face immediately fell after his comment and you wondered why. Oh. Right.  
The night before, your father had gotten especially drunk and abusive. He thought it would be a great idea to grab the nearest thing close to him which happened to be a fork and claw it across your face.  You now had a lovely wound spanning from just above your left eyebrow to the corner of your mouth. You grimaced at the memory of last night and bit back a whimper of pain.

He opened his mouth to apologize but he was cut off by one of his friends slapping him across the back. You turned away and went back to swinging idly on the swing again.

 

Later on that year, the abuse had become far too much of a problem. You showed up to school one day with a black eye, a cut across the bridge of your nose and a shredded leg. Your teacher had immediately dragged you to the principal’s office before you could even take a step into your classroom. The principal took one look at your injuries and had sent you to the hospital. You aren’t sure what happened after you woke up all bandaged up but one of the nurses informed you that you weren’t going to live with your father anymore. That came as a huge relief but for some reason, you felt like you weren’t whole without your father abusing you. It was messed up and weird. You told one of the nurses that and she looked pitifully at you before making a quick phone call which included the words “rehab” and “transfer” in it. That didn’t sound good

Not good at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Ha ha ha I started out writing something fluffy but it kind of turned into this  
> Uh enjoy I guess


End file.
